


Difference Maker

by orphan_account



Category: The Boyz (Korea Band)
Genre: Ambiguous/Open Ending, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Implied/Referenced Suicide, M/M, jacob reads his letter, pls, read with caution, this is just so angsty i dont know what else to say
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-13
Updated: 2020-08-13
Packaged: 2021-03-06 02:22:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,165
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25875838
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: He doesn’t know what he’s praying for. Forgiveness, maybe. Or maybe he was just praying for his hands to stay still.
Relationships: Bae Joonyoung | Jacob/Moon Hyungseo | Kevin
Comments: 4
Kudos: 14





	Difference Maker

**Author's Note:**

> umm hi again haha....
> 
> TW!  
> before you read, this fic can be triggering for some people. i write about implied suicide and depression, so please don't continue if those are your triggers.
> 
> if you do read IM SO SORRY im a whore for angst and i write what i want <3
> 
> the title is from the song difference maker by needtobreathe 
> 
> enjoy... or don't?

Jacobs hands are shaking. The keys he holds rattles noisily as he unlocks the front door of a once occupied apartment. The space he had called home just last week, now cold and empty. Lifeless.

Inhale, eyes shut, exhale. Careful not to overwhelm himself, he takes his time wandering through the space. So weird, he thinks. Every piece of furniture in the cramped living room, every book stacked under the coffee table, and even the ugly stuffed pigeon tucked into the corner of the second-hand sofa felt foreign to him. This isn’t his home anymore.  _ This isn’t their home anymore. _

He shrugs off his suit blazer, throwing it onto the sofa, watching as it slips off onto the carpet. Then he loosens his tie. He thinks of sighing, but he doesn’t. Too afraid of disturbing the quiet that hovers around him.

Jacob knows that maybe it’s too soon for him to revisit what he has lost, but he can’t help it. Better to grieve than to not feel at all. And with that, he makes his way to his best friend's bedroom, prepared to knock softly on the chipped blue paint of the door in the hopes that whatever is on the other side will ask him to come in, but he doesn’t. Instead, he shuts his eyes again and turns the knob, feeling his heart sink lower and lower while his breaths come out shorter and quicker. A shiver runs down Jacob’s spine. If the first opened door led to a cold draft, this door welcomed him with hands built of snow.

Inhale, eyes open, exhale. Silently, because he doesn’t want to disturb the quiet. His face flinches at the sight that greets him. An unmade bed, pieces of clothing, and socks that had been strewn across the floor of the room, pens and pencils scattered next to open notebooks on the desk. And the bedside lamp still switched on. It looked as if someone had been in here just five minutes ago. It felt lived in.

He takes a steady step inside, grounding himself before he has both feet on the carpet. He wants to tidy up, wants to hear the sound of the front door unlocking while he throws the dirty clothes in the wash. He doesn’t touch anything though, worried that if he picks something up it’ll just turn to ash in his hands. Instead, he walks to the left, over to the window to open the curtains. It’s late at night, but the moon fills the room with a pale glow, reminding him that he’s not alone here.

Turning around to face the bed in the centre of the room, he toes off his shoes and thinks about laying down, thinks that maybe he’ll find some warmth left behind under the covers. This time, he does. He steps over his shoes and tucks himself in, curled up and still cold. Shifting, he tucks a hand under the pillow and feels something poke at his finger. He pulls it out and observes it; a paper folded twice and a photograph. The photo is of the two together on Jacob's birthday, two falls ago. They’re both smiling, Jacob towards the sky and his best friend towards him while they walk through the grass together. On the corner of the photo in messy handwriting, he reads  _ j+k = canada bros. _ His shoulders start to shake.

Setting the photo aside, he turns the paper over in his hands a few times, just to make sure it’s real. His heart runs loud in his ears, pulses at the tips of his fingers, and all the way down to his toes. Inhale, but this time his breath stutters and breaks on the exhale. He doesn’t shut his eyes, just unfolds the paper with trembling hands. Once, twice. 

The letter is short, just enough to fill over half the page. Jacob wonders how this man could have written so little when he has so much to ask him, to tell him. A strange feeling sets up camp in his stomach, and he begins to read.

  
  


_ Jacob, _

_ I want to be honest with you. I’m alone, I was always alone and I don’t think there was anything you could do to change that. _

_ If you’re reading this then I’ve already left and it was probably for the best. Even when I was with you, with others, I was always alone in my head. Just me and my cruel, impulsive thoughts. I don’t remember when It felt uncomfortable to tell you about how I felt.  _

Jacob shifts his eyes to look through the window and at the moon, praying silently. He doesn’t know what he’s praying for. Forgiveness, maybe. Or maybe he’s just praying for his hands to stay still. There’s a bitter taste on his tongue.

_ My favourite person, you always knew how to make me feel happy. It was those special moments that kept my head up through the bad ones. The times I’d meet you in the kitchen for a ‘midnight snack’ at four am, when you’d bring me my favourite coffee to wake me up in the mornings or when you’d coddle me and play my favourite movie, knowing I had a long day. _

The pillow beneath his head turns damp, but he only presses his fingers deeper into the paper, his nails turning white. This time he does close his eyes, shuts, and squeezes them tight enough to hold the rest of him together. Deep breath. Fall apart, and continue.

_ I always wondered if you knew about my suffering but decided to keep your mouth shut because you think it’s just something I have to go through to come out on the other side. I know you mean well, but I can’t go through this alone anymore. I realised that I can’t wait for someone who can pretend to give a fuck about what’s happening inside my head and maybe it wasn’t going to be that way forever but I’m tired of waiting. I’m tired of wondering if I’ll ever know what it’s like to spend a night outside of this stuffy room and enjoy every moment of it with people that love back. I’m tired of being a support system to someone who can’t bother to check in on me when I really need them to. I’m tired of giving my all to someone who can’t hear me and I’m tired of crying alone in the small space inside my mind, frustrated and feeling sorry for myself, because it does nothing for me. What do I cry for? Who am I crying for? _

Jacob wants to cry out loud. He wants to yell and beg and crawl out of his own body. Wants to claw at his face until it turns red and then run away. Far, far away. But he doesn’t.

_ There’s no point dwelling on it. Suck it up, dry your tears and get on with it.  _

_ All my love, _

_ Kevin  _

**Author's Note:**

> thank you once again for reading! 
> 
> come yell at me on twitter @eumakkyu or on curiouscat.me/kyupop


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